


Lessons and Words

by LokianaWinchester



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-12
Updated: 2015-07-12
Packaged: 2018-04-08 23:12:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4324413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokianaWinchester/pseuds/LokianaWinchester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt:<br/>What if Bard decides to learn at least a bit of Sindarin (that’s totally not an excuse to get closer to Thranduil) and of course instead of sending a tutor to him Thranduil decides to teach him himself - and after a few lessons he gives Bard sentences to translate from Sindarin to common speech and one of the sentences is a fucking love confession.<br/>-elfandbowman (tumblr)</p>
<p>My mobile fucked up and I ended up deleting the original work. So this is a repost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Months had passed since the Battle of the Five Armies, which the townspeople had begun to call it. Slowly but steadily they were recovering from the horrors they had experienced; they renovated homes, established and opened proper hospitals and even a school with the help of the elves' knowledge and the dwarves' strength. Dáin, king of the dwarves had been kind enough to assign dwarves to help the new inhabitants of the city after the news that it was regained had spread. Thus men, dwarves, and elves rebuilt the whole glorious city of Dale. 

 

And while nearly everyone was busy with their own work, the one thing that excited all was that Bard the Bowman, the former bargeman, was to be crowned king. Though everyone else was preparing for the coronation, Bard had, until very recently, pushed all thought about it out of his mind, concentrating on helping his people. But there was a nagging uneasiness in the back of his mind, that every now and then reminded him of his fate. Furthermore, he didn’t know which customs and traditions he would have to follow, and he was sure that Thranduil, the Elvenking wouldn’t approve of his incompetence.

 

Thranduil and Bard had met for several political meetings since the battle, and Bard found that the outwardly icy and regal elf actually had a good heart and a warm, open personality. When Thranduil had been there, they had taken long walks through the city, watching it grow and evolve with every month.

 

He didn’t know if he should be surprised when the elvish guard, who had been assigned by the Elvenking to look after his family showed up on his door. Mornwerilon bowed and said "My lord Thranduil would like to meet you in the Town Hall." 

Bard had a feeling that he knew why he was being summoned, but to be sure he asked anyway.

"He said to tell you that he desires to help you with the task of becoming a decent king," the guard replied and signalled him with a wave of his hand to follow him.

 

The Town Hall was an ancient and cold building. It had been one of the first to be rebuilt as councils and meetings were held there. What made it seem cold was that there was next to no furniture except a long marble conference table contributed by the dwarves and some wooden chairs the elves had brought with them. The lessons consisted almost exclusively of  "How-often-did-I-tell-you-not-to-slouch-now?"s and "No!-That's-not-the-right-phrase-to-greet-an-elven-lord"s for the first few days. But there also was something else Bard couldn't quite put his finger on. He noticed that Thranduil was acting differently around him. Sometimes the Elvenking was walking or sitting slightly closer next to Bard than what would be considered appropriate or he looked at him in a way Bard couldn't quite figure out. Not that he minded, but on other occasions it seemed like he was distancing himself from the bowman.

 

One afternoon, when Bard was about to leave the Town Hall, Thranduil held him back by gently grasping his arm and turning him to face the Elvenking. For some reason he couldn't quite figure out himself Bard felt shy about standing so close next to this eternal being and avoided eye contact.

 

"You know, you will have to face it some time. I still have the feeling that you are trying to avoid your responsibility. You have to understand. I am not only your mentor here. I am trying to help you as a friend. I know you have children -"

 

Bard sighed.

 

"Is it about them?" Thranduil asked gently.

 

Now Bard looked up, once again noticing their height difference. He saw only sympathy and seriousness in Thranduil’s eyes.

 

"It's just- I am not sure about how they are going to take it. I mean," he hesitated, "I know that Bain is not fond of becoming king some day. Of course that can change, still, but..." He sighed again. "I don't want to do this without my children's consent. I worry whether or not I will have enough time for them once I am ... king."

 

Thranduil's gaze softened as he continued to look into the bowman's eyes and told him, "I am sure all will be well. You know Mornwerilon and I will help you should you require it."

 

Bard felt slightly uncomfortable. The Elvenking was so willing to aid him but Bard had nothing he could give in return that the elf did not already have.

 

"Thank you," he murmured and turned to leave with a nod goodbye.

 

 

When he came home Sigrid was the first to notice that something was wrong. 

 

“Da,” she approached him slowly, “did something happen?”

 

Bard decided it was the best if they all talked about it together. “Later, darling. We’ll talk about it.”

 

Dinner didn’t taste like anything because Bard was just immensely nervous. After the meal he sat down in the sparse living area, trying to calm down when Tilda, his nine-year-old daughter came to snuggle herself against his side. Soon his other children joined them and he knew it wouldn’t be of any use to delay it any further.

 

“I am sorry if I worried you, but I really need to speak with you about, well, me becoming the king of Dale. It’s very important to me to know what you think of this matter because I would never do anything without your opinion -”

 

“Da,” Sigrid interrupted him. “Da, calm down. We know you are excited and anxious about everything. I don’t want you to worry about us. We are going to be fine no matter what your decision.” 

 

In the pause that followed Bain murmured “Obviously” just loud enough for Bard to hear. 

 

“Bain, if you have anything you would like to say, please…” 

 

Bain hesitated and avoided eye contact. Then he seemed to straighten up altogether and said, “I’m not sure if I want to be a king, Da. But I know that you are going to be a great one. The people like you and you’re a good man.And I guess I can be a king if you can.” 

 

That was when Tilda piped up. “Why can’t Sigrid be Queen? If Bain doesn’t want to be a king, why can’t she rule? She is the oldest anyway.” 

 

Bain and Sigrid stared at Tilda speechlessly and even Bard was impressed by his youngest. 

 

“That is a very clever thing to say,” he told her while she sleepily shuffled closer to him. He released a heavy sigh of relief and felt like a great weight left him. He was one step closer to becoming Dale’s new king. 

 

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I could never do this without you” he whispered when he noticed how Tilda had fallen asleep on his lap.

 

That night, when he was about to fall asleep, he wondered if Thranduil would be proud of him for finally accepting his fate.


	2. Chapter 2

When Bard entered the Town Hall the next day he found that he was actually looking forward to today's lesson. He also noticed he was early for the first time. Thranduil wasn’t waiting for him next to the massive table.

He sat down, still thinking about the conversation with his children and waited for the Elvenking to arrive.

Thranduil finally showed up, sighing exasperatedly, but he stopped in his tracks when Bard's eyes met his own. Then it seemed like he tried to play it off by straightening his face and continuing to walk. At once Bard's spirits fell and he got up, worried about Thranduil. The elf seemed flustered and confused, which was saying something, given that Bard had never been able to read his face before.

“What happened?” Bard asked.

Thranduil shook his head as if to get rid of unpleasant thoughts.“It is nothing, really.”

Bard didn’t believe him but he left it at that.

But when Thranduil kept being unfocused and distracted throughout the morning, Bard decided that it really wasn’t nothing and approached the Elvenking again. He tried to get Thranduil's attention.

“Thranduil, I…” but he broke off when he noticed that Thranduil still seemed to be somewhere else entirely, judging by the way his eyes were glued to the wall opposite his seat. So Bard pulled out the chair next to Thranduil and sat on its edge, feeling that it didn’t fit the situation to be comfortable.

“I know something is wrong," Bard began. Thranduil jerked like he had been asleep, but he was listening to him now so Bard continued, "and I hope you know that I’m here if you ever needed someone to talk to. You helped me yesterday. It seems only fair that I help you now,” Bard stated, concerned.

“I take it the talk with your children went well then?” Thranduil said, avoiding the actual topic.

“They support me. And I believe I have to thank you for that to some extent, at least for helping me realize. But please tell me what’s wrong.”

Thranduil sighed. He looked conflicted, but forcibly collecting himself judging by the way his brows were furrowed together. He was wringing his hands and it seemed to Bard like he was fighting back other emotions.

"I was, well, I was confronted with something. And... I don't know..." he trailed off.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Bard said, "You know you can tell me"

“No, I really doubt I can,” Thranduil cut him off almost harshly and stood up abruptly, sending his chair falling backwards onto the cold stone floor with a loud bang. He put his fingers to his temples as if his head hurt and looked... lost. Bard slowly rose from his chair, standing face to face with the elf. He didn't dare touch him, not even to lay a soothing hand on his arm. Not only did the blonde look lost, he seemed to contain an inner rage which Bard was not keen on releasing.

“I am sorry,” Thranduil finally said, as he relaxed. “I did not mean to... I suppose you noticed I am a little beside myself today. I just don't know what to make of it.," He sighed again.

Bard didn't know what to think of this; the regal Elvenking, the wisest and probably oldest person he knew, seemed so helpless.

"I’ll try to help you. I promise you that I-"

“Bard…”

“You know I mean it.”

“Bard, please…”

"You can't just tell me it is nothing! Did someone insult you?"

“No! Bard, listen to me," Thranduil snapped. Bard shifted uncomfortably as the Elvenking towered over him. "No one insulted me, they wouldn’t dare, but... ” The elf hesitated, seeing how he had intimidated Bard. “What they said... It's not something I want to talk about”

Bard watched as Thranduil's eyes became colder. The Elvenking straightened his back, gathered up his coat, and threw it on while he swept towards the exit. The bowman felt useless. He had tried to help the elf, but instead it seemed like he had made it worse.

“Thranduil,” Bard called after him.

The Elvenking stopped at once, but did not turn around even when he announced,“These lessons have come to an end. I am sure the rest of the preparations will go smoothly and I wish you good luck with them.”

With these words Thranduil hurried out and Bard was left alone in the Hall, the elf's words still echoing through his mind.

It couldn’t have gone more wrong.

Now that he had finally cleared things up with his children he was eager to help others, only now he seemed to have been too eager. And of course this messed things up with Thranduil.

Thranduil, who had helped him immensely in just a week and to whom he had failed to return that favour. That thought alone made him feel guilty, but on top of that the Elvenking had not seemed like he wanted to see him again anytime soon.

He stood to pick up the chair that was still lying on the floor, and sat down on it. He was starting to realise how much he had enjoyed the elf’s presence and how much he valued his friendship. It made his heart ache with regret for his actions and his mind go numb. He didn’t know how to deal with this situation, but he tried to calm down first. He was angry with himself; if his children saw him like this they would only worry, so he stayed where he was for now and at least tried to sort out his mind.

Closing his eyes, Bard let his thoughts wander, knowing it would make him ache more, but he didn't care at that moment.

They had taken strolls through Dale together on several occasions when Thranduil had been in Erebor for either business or politics. Bard had very much enjoyed their time together. For the most part the Elvenking had been in a good, almost cheerful mood and though it didn't happen often. Thranduil even laughed melodically, a laughter Bard wanted to listen to for the rest of his life.

Bard sighed and leaned back, opening his eyes. He already missed that laughter, the way Thranduil tilted his head back slightly with it, without losing his grace. He hadn’t had the pleasure of hearing it at all lately; Thranduil seemed to be more tense around him, more cautious. More distant.  
Perhaps this had been his aim all along, distancing himself from Bard, so that the future King of Dale would not bother him all the time. Bard was still uncertain, but his anger had vanished and his children were waiting at home, so finally he left too.


	3. Chapter 3

Two weeks after the end of Bard's lessons with Thranduil, the date of his coronation was set. On the first day of June he was to be crowned king, which still scared him. But knowing that his children supported him, and with the help with planning Mornwerilon had given him, he was gaining more confidence every day.

Dáin had offered to allow the ceremony to take place in Erebor, but Bard didn’t want to disappoint his people who had been preparing Dale for the special occasion for weeks. So it was planned that the huge table in the Town Hall would be cleared out, which would make the Hall big enough for a good four hundred persons.

Over the past few days Bard had taken time to supervise the renovation in the town’s centre and in the Hall itself. The rest of his spare time had been spent in the woods, enjoying the quiet and occasionally hunting. He only shot what he thought necessary, and if he found he had too much, he gave it to those in need of food who couldn't afford it on the market.

But whatever he did, Thranduil never left his thoughts.

***

“Da!” Tilda almost shouted. “Da, Sigrid wants to know how she should cook the rabbit you brought today,” she declared as soon as Bard noticed she was talking to him. He had been replacing his bowstring and somewhere in the process he must have drifted off.

“Do we have all the ingredients for a nice stew?” Bard asked. Tilda didn’t answer and ran straight to the kitchen. She was a bundle of energy and Bard was planning on hiring a tutor for all his children when everything was over.

With every day that passed Bard realised more and more that he missed Thranduil. He missed his smile, sarcastic as it often was, his elegance, the subtle touches, a hand on his shoulder when the elf was proud of him, shoulders or knees brushing when they sat slightly closer to each other than would have been proper. Bard had always pretended not to notice and so had Thranduil.

***

The last weeks until his big day passed quickly, and in the end Bard was even more nervous than he had anticipated.

Mornwerilon had promised to have an elvish dress made for Tilda and he had kept his word.  
"I am going to be a princess!" She said, twirling around in front of their mirror.

"And I am going to be a king someday," Bain piped up.

Bard looked up abruptly; his son stood already fully dressed in his new festive clothes, his chest was puffed out and he looked proud.

"Yes, da," he said when all Bard did was stare. "I know how anxious you were, and now you don't run and hide but you are prepared. I will have much more time to prepare."  
Bard hurried over to his son and hugged him tightly. Bain squirmed uncomfortably, so the bowman let go off him, touched.

"I am so proud of you, Bain."

His son grinned sheepishly. "Thanks, da."

Shortly after, a beautiful carriage that had been built specially for this occasion arrived and they made their way towards the town centre. Sigrid noticed how Bard tensed up more and more the longer they sat in their carriage in silence.

"Da, you know you'll be great. You know you are well prepared and the people like you." She reached for one of his cold, shaking hands and squeezed.

"Thanks, Sig," Bard muttered.

Everybody was waiting for his arrival. The people of Dale were standing mostly outside while some lucky ones had managed to arrive early enough to claim seats inside the massive hall. The elven and dwarven lords were also assembled within it, leaving an aisle for the future royal family to pass through towards the dais at the front. Dáin had proudly taken on the responsibility of conducting the ceremony and thus crowning him king.

Bard’s hands were shaking and sweating, his breath came shallow and fast, and his heart was beating rapidly as he looked around the room while everyone quieted. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down, and felt everyone staring at him. When he opened his eyes again, his heart skipped a beat and he tried to hold back a gasp. Staring directly at him at the other end of the room was Thranduil. Suddenly Bard was calm; he knew his lines, he knew the ceremony because he had practiced everything with Thranduil, and he couldn’t possibly mess it up in front of him. When Dáin started his speech beside him he knew he was ready.

“I am honoured to have been given the privilege of being your king." Bard spoke directly to his people. "I swear to serve you, protect you from harm, and help you in any way possible. It is not your responsibility to ensure your wellbeing but mine, and I will do my best not to disappoint,” he calmly stated when it was his turn and knelt in front of Dáin to have the simple crown placed on his head. When he rose again the room erupted in cheers of: "Long live King Bard, the Dragonslayer,” and he could hear fireworks exploding as the townspeople celebrated.

But all that only happened in the background. In the centre of Bard’s attention stood Thranduil, dressed elegantly in silver and looking otherworldly.Thranduil met his gaze, his blue eyes looked up to Bard, but once again he could not read them. The moment was shattered when a crowd of well-wishers approached Bard, and in the next hour he didn’t have the chance to get away from them. When he eventually did, he went straight to Thranduil. The elves who he had spoken to excused themselves and left them alone.

“You came,” Bard whispered. His mind buzzed with happiness and his heart fluttered excitedly.

“I did. Did you not expect me to?” Thranduil asked. Bard wasn't able to tell if he was mocking him or not. He blushed. Honestly he hadn’t expected him.

“I am sorry…” he continued hesitantly, “about everything. About leaving, about not being there knowing how nervous you were." He sighed. Bard could see by the way his posture stiffened and his eyebrows furrowed slightly how uncomfortable the Elvenking was with apologising. "I feel like you should know about the regret I feel because of my selfish actions. But at that moment I felt trapped and I didn’t know another way out so I left. I am sor-”

“You don’t need to apologise,” Bard interrupted him. “I mean, you’re here now. That is all that matters; thank you for coming.” He couldn’t help but smile. When he looked up and saw Thranduil smile back, he knew it was no use lying to himself. He would have to lie to everyone else, but he knew that he had fallen in love with Thranduil.

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by the wonderful [Sindarcaverave](http://sindarcaverave.tumblr.com) and [AryaDaeriel](http://archiveofourown.org/users/AryaDaeriel/pseuds/AryaDaeriel)


End file.
